Fifty Shades: How it Began
by Miso2
Summary: The self-destructive Christian Grey finds purpose when he turns fifteen. *Mature scenes, so read at your own discretion, knowing there's an age difference. Please, for the love of all things good, don't send hate mail on this. This is cathartic writing from an abuse victim, not a perpetrator, for heaven's sake.
1. Chapter 1

His body is never in repose longer than five hours in one span. His mind always too hungry for more information, craving any sort of intense physical stimuli to go with it so he can finally beat himself into a comatose-like sleep every night. This time the purposefully chosen stimuli is too overwhelming, overcoming his seemingly indestructible 15-year-old body. After ten hours of sleep he awakes, but it's unmoving and silent, listening to his mother fret unceasingly over him, loading everything on her friend Elena.

"I can't take this anymore, Elena. This is the second time he's tried to kill himself. The two months of treatment in California did nothing for him. And now I'm out another brand new mercedes."

"I can only imagine how hard this is for you. I wish I could give you some wise options, but I know nothing about teenagers. I was hardly a teenager myself," says Elena.

"You did have to grow up fast. Maybe that's what Christian needs. To grow up."

"What are you saying?"

"That it's time for him to leave home. Become independent. This suicide stuff is pure self-indulgent...crap that's breaking my heart in two. And you know I love him to death, but he won't talk to us. He has everything handed to him and he throws it away." Grace rubs her temples then checks the time. Elena is taken aback by Grace's unusual slip of a curse word.

"I won't argue with that. You've spoiled him, but he had such a rough start to his life. I know he was only four, but you still don't know everything that happened. It's had to effect him deeper than we can imagine. He can't suddenly be on his own without someone to be there for him. It's too much like my story." She eyes grace tenderly. "I wouldn't have survived if it weren't for you." Grace hugs Elena from the side, sweeping Elena's long blonde hair from her shoulder in a sisterly way.

"Where do I send him, then? Christian has my marriage upside down and the other two kids are scared he's going to die any minute."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but..." Elena bit her own finger and thought it through again before she said anything more. "I'm about as motherly as Nurse Ratchet, but he can stay in one of my guest rooms. Lewis is never home and I'm wrapped up in the launch of my new product line I'll be selling in my salons, but I do most all my work from home. You both need a break and I can't help but think of how you looked after me when I wasn't much older than Christian."

"Would you really take him? Even for just a couple of weeks?"

"Look at him lying here." Elena walks to the foot of the hospital bed. "He needs a safe place to recover, but he also needs a kick in the ass." She swivels her head to watch Grace grow a slow smile. "You know me. I can provide both without blinking and still keep my Prada shoes scratch free."

Grace laughs through her tears and hugs Elena, stabbing her with the name tag that's pinned to her white doctors coat. No one initiated a hug with Elena, not even her husband, only her surrogate big sister that saved her from ruin when she was a pregnant and lost teenager.

Christian couldn't play fly-on-the-wall anymore, stirring audibly so they would notice. Grace ran to his side, her straight brown hair whisping as she moved. "Oh, sweetheart, you're awake!" She kissed him gently on the cheek, knowing he didn't like to be touched, but she couldn't resist.

"Quit fussing over him." Elena scooted in beside her and spoke firmly to the groggy teenager waking to life instead of the death he was searching for. "Hey, Christian. You're coming home with me. What do you say to that?"

"I don't know. You going to hurt me, Ms. Elena?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. I'm coming."

Elena's house wasn't much different than what Christian was used to. Just another 10,000 square foot box of wood sitting luxuriantly along Seattle's Puget Sound and keeping window washers busy. Christian was filled with and unusual amount of ambivilence and teenage angst today, but what motivated him to finally take the first step to Elena's spectacularly kept house was the innate trust he always had of Elena, even though he was scared of her at times. He wasn't scared of his idiot classmates who called him names like: "know-it-all bastard", "Pompous ass", and "Rich dick". Christian considered them hollow compliments. So did the hormone struck girls that said these things it to him.

"Christian, you're early. Good, boy. Step inside out of the rain, you'll catch cold then spread it to me. And I certainly won't have you dying on my watch."

"Yes, Ms. Elena," he says snidely.

Christian remembers the first time he met Elena. It was absolutely the most unforgettable moment of pure hell for her, but his most favorite. It was when he was still young and stupid enough to challenge her.

"Mom said your baby died. Why?" Elena tried to smack Christian's eight year-old face with her eyes. He didn't react.

She glared more intently at the the carefully dressed boy with overly jelled auburn hair and hissed, "Because I killed it."

"Why?" he asked, not shocked at all by her answer, nor the horrifying look blazing in her brown eyes.

"Why do you think?" she asked nastily.

"Because you're sad and lonely."

"Fuck off, kid."

Christian remembers her long flowing blonde hair, the embedded pink and dark purple around her eyes, and her tan skin wrapped tight around her small, but very tall frame. She was a pretty woman, and most beautifully fierce.

"Master Grey, you may choose your room." She guided him through the large foyer like a real estate agent, and less like a mannerly hostess. "There's one here on the main floor that's quite large, but the bathroom is small and the staff can be loud in the morning. The other is in the East wing, second door on the right. It has a balcony that merges with mine, but the bathroom is large. Which one?"

"Balcony, Ms. Elena." He works to supress an expression of any kind. Elena doesn't like emotions and he knows everything she likes, and especially the things she dislikes, teasing her with them when he dares. But that's been several years since he's tried.

"Still decisive as ever, Master Grey. Good." She turns and calls out, "Mr. Scott!" A square-shouldered man in his 40s appears suddenly. "Take Mr. Grey's bags to the balcony room in the East Wing," she commands, and he swiftly leaves.

Elena scans Christian's clothes and gives him a disapproving look that Christian raises his eyebrows to. He spent eight years watching Elena's body language, learning to read her instead of talking incessantly like his brother and sister always did.

"I don't wear your type of clothes. I'd just end up throwing them away." Elena flips her aromatic hair and walks past him and down the hall.

"We'll see if you dare to. Follow me, Christian," her voice sings, but it's filled with stern expectation. "We have business to conduct, you and me."

The entire main floor is composed of dark Mahogany furniture and matching wainscoting. The floors are endless slabs of creamy marble; slippery and cold, making her heels clip sharply and his treadless Van's stick. Elena's always taken the priviledge of walking ahead of Christian, never treating him any differently than when he was young and began calling him Master Grey, even though Elliot was the eldest Grey child.

"Sit there," she points to a swiveling brown leather stool pushed up to the island in the kitchen. She walks around into the kitchen and pulls out a blue folder, opening it to a document several pages in length. "This situation we have here is business. I'm not old enough to be your mother, and not young enough to be your friend. It's a working relationship, and that means there are clearly defined expectations for both of us. I'll negotiate on two items. You choose what they are and what you want. Everything else stays and is followed, or you're out of here and back living with your mother."

Christian fidgets uncomfortably in his seat.

"That's exactly what I thought." She eyes him tightly. "I love your mom like a sister, but the threat of death wouldn't get me to live with her again. She decorates with too many overseas knick-knacks and she's overly emotional about her patients. Let alone the fact that Mia is a spaz and Elliot an attention junkie."

"Agreed," says Christian, looking bored.

"Good. Read the contract. Tonight we'll sit and discuss your items of possible negotiation."

"Fine," he mumbles, using that bored, almost annoyed voice he uses at school.

"Christian! You're forgetting yourself."

"Sorry...Ms. Elena. I mean...I apologize, Ms. Elena."

"Good, boy, Master Grey." Elena breathes out annoyance, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the counter and facing Christian. She eyes him softly for a moment, admiring his long copper hair that waves down past the tips of his ears and into his eyes.

"Do you have to refer to me as 'boy'? I'm fifteen and a junior in high school, for God's sake..." Elena rolls her eys and Christian's blood heats. _I hate when she does that—such a condescending bitch of an expression_.

When Elena looks away Christian glances between her arms, her bosom squeezed together and pressing out of her silk v-necked dress. Christian bites his finger. His first hard-on was because of her breasts; one of her nipples pressing bare against her shirt on a rare, humid summer day laying out on the lawn with his mother.

"Do I have to lock up my girls along with my vehicles while you're here, Christian?"

His grey eyes flip up to catch hers, reprimanding and sultry enough to cause Christian to discretely shift his jeans to make more space for himself. _How does she fucking do that to me every time? How embarrassing. Shit._

"Read. Do what you will with the contents of the fridge while you're perusing. Two hours. And two allowable changes, Christian."

Exactly two hours later Elena walks into the room barefoot, but still in her low-cut silk dress that clings to her curves, then drapes easily away at her knees. She opens the refridgerator and stares, massaging her temples like his mother does.

"Why are you in such a shitty mood? Are you menstrating?" he asks boldly.

"Don't pull the push-all-the-boundaries, teenage crap on me. Of course I'm on my monthly. I'll be nicer in two days."

"Where's Mr. Lincoln...Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Dubai. He's not due back for two weeks," she sighs.

"You miss him," he observes, trying to get her to look at him, but she can't bring herself to. Christian is unnerving her and she's refusing to admit why consciously. If she took the moment to search her mind she'd realize that Christian's presence caused her to miss her husband and played on her cravings. A male filled with testosterone in the home was annoying when nothing could be done with it. She flips her hand and shuts the fridge door.

"I do miss him. But I'm the one who signed-up for this ride, knowing full well he'd be gone a lot. I'll live. I have a lot of work to distract me."

"You're the toughest woman I know."

"Yes, I am. Enough. Tell me your two negotiation tokens before my head explodes and I ruin the contract."

"I don't want to change anything. It's perfect." He slides the folder across the black and white marble counter and she opens it to see his signature on the last page. Elena peers at him through half-open eyes that are dramatically lines with varying shades of glittering eyeshadow.

"Are you sure? I don't want you fighting me on this later."

"I won't fight with you on it...unless you want me to." Christian shoots a coy smile at her and she winces like she received a paper cut from the contract. He shoots out of his chair and appears in the kitchen beside her suddenly. She's weakened, tired, and hurting. He knows the signs well, having watched his sister and mother go through the same patterns. He reaches up and gently rubs her temples. She's too exhausted from working all day to fight him and what he brings out in her.

Not letting his fingers leave her skin, he trails them down to her shoulders and she groans.

"I didn't mean to be so hard on you earlier, but you need it. You're not going to walk all over me, Christian. I know you're capable of charming just about anyone into doing anything, but not me. No matter how good you can massage my neck. Now go away. I'll see you tomorrow. It's Saturday, thank god."

Saturday was no better. It's Monday before Elena was normal, which was still a little on the bitchy side, but Christian had school.

Two weeks pass with little communication and no wrong behavior on Christian's part, and Elena is beginning to get suspicious, checking in more often. On a whim she calls his phone in his room even when they are at home together, but some 2,000 feet apart.

"How are you doing, Master Grey?" Elena asks, stretching her legs out to reach the top of her desk.

"Fine, Ms. Elena. You?"

"Well, Master Grey. Well."

"Okay. How _well_ are you?" Christian lays back in his bad, propping his head up with pillows.

"Mr. Lincoln will be home tomorrow night."

"Fine."

"Goodnight, then, Master Grey."

"Goodnight, Madam Lincoln."

"Whatever. Thirteen years your senior does not make me a Madam."

"Only Thirteen years?"

"Shocked? Did you think I was older?"

"No. You only act older."

"I have half a mind to come spank you, child!"

"Doors open."

"If only you knew. Goodnight means, goodnight." She hangs up, smirking to herself.

Section One, article 8 states: Christian must practice piano five days a week for one hour, and lessons are to be held every Tuesday at 3 PM for the same.

It was unnecessary to demand it of him. This was his place of comfort and somber joy. It was Thursday afternoon and Elena was busy ordering the maid, Ms. Green, around everywhere. Finally breaking a champagne flute under the stressful demands.

"Never mind, Ms. Green. If you hadn't done it, I would have. Let's have a glass of wine while you clean it up."

"Apologies, Mrs. Lincoln. Thank you."

Ms. Green was still youthful and energetic, but already in her mid-30s and several years older than Elena, but you couldn't tell by looking at them side-by-side. Elena didn't have a wrinkle on her plush, heart-shaped face, but her hardened eyes and stern demeanor made her ten years older than she was, which was only twenty-eight. She married Mr. Lincoln when she was eighteen and he was thirty-five, but age differences like this doesn't matter as much when money is supporting both sides of the marital union that was saving Elena from disgrace.

Christian saunters easily into the kitchen, digs in the freezer, then plops several frozen grapes into the white wine Elena is pouring for her and Ms. Green. "Thank you. Why are you done early?"

"I began early. And I'm changing into the clothes you bought me so I don't scare Mr. Lincoln, though he might not recognize me and mistake me to be the lover you keep trapped in that room upstairs that's always locked."

Ms. Green glances up then hurries to finish dumping the broken glass into the trash can. She leaves the room with her wine with brisk efficiency.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood, Master Grey. Mind that mouth of yours." She slaps his butt and Christian backs away from her. She meant to do it harder. Christian didn't know whether it was playful or weirdly serious, maybe both.

Elena is most severely in control of herself, but it was taking everything she had not to let her full lips curve up at the thought of the room upstairs, waiting for Mr. Lincoln to come home to her. And soon enough Mr. Lincoln danced through the front door and Elena gracefully ran to him, practically pinning him to the wall with her hips and breasts, lips locked onto his.

"Darling, let me breath. Aren't you a wonderful sight. Let me see you."

Mr. Lincoln is a gregarious, loud man that loves having Christian staying on at the house, wishing his wife would stop working on her new line of make-up products so she could become pregnant and fill it with more activity and noise. But Christian thought the lively married couple made enough noise, and late into the night. Undone by it continuing for so long, Christian slips into the hallway and heads to the West wing where he can hear the strange sounds of their lovemaking.

_Of course, they're in the locked room. It's a friggin' sex room, I bet._ He leans up against the wall just outside the door and tries to determine what position Mr. Lincoln had Elena in. He wants to imagine it for himself.

There's a loud slap. Maybe wood against skin, if that's possible. Mr. Lincoln groans loudly, but the groan ends in a higher-pitched yell as another slap is heard through the door. The faint sound of metal clinking, chains rustling...four to be exact...and light moans, anxious moans that tells Christian they are about to fuck.

_Damn, I wish that were me. Just one time penetrating her, that's all I need. _

Christian closes his eyes in the completely dark hallway and focuses on every sound that Elena makes. She is so wanting, her panting low. Several seconds pass between each breath, but he notes her breathing is picking up pace. Christian's adept fingers dip below the waistband of his cotton pajama bottoms and begin to pull upward in a long stroke, then downward stronger. He can imagine himself inside her, in and out over and over again as he watches her hips arch forward and her breasts tremble and harden. He'd never felt anything besides his own hand, but he could visualize her doing it for him. He'd done it before when he was younger.

Christian suppresses a growling moan as he feels himself filling up inside, the pressure mounting, listening to Elena's breathing increase, and her intermittent sighs of pleasure. "Oh fuck, Lewis. You've got to do it harder than that," she demands. "Reach around and touch my clitoris. Now!" Her voice pushes Christian over and he was coming silently, feeling victorious, but naughty for taking a sexual hit off her private love-making.

_Lucky, fucking bastard, having her. _

He walks silently back to his room and takes a shower, able to sleep now that he's spent, but only for five hours. He wakes up hard all over again, Elena undressed and showering for him in his waking dream, but it's never satisfying enough. The urge to have her is becoming too much and he wonders if he will have to move out soon. He's seen Elena fly off the handle before. It's not pretty. She'll hack his balls off and won't even apologize later for it. He never wanted to hurt her, just please her by doing everything she asked. At this point Christian needed this goal in his life, otherwise he would crawl back into his little black hole where death seemed better than anything life here could give him. A life that treated him as useless, unlovable and damaged beyond repair.

Grace told Christian bits and pieces of Elena's story before he left to stay with her—as a warning to be nice to her. Grace told him she was raped repeatedly by someone, finally empregnating her. It was easy for Christian to absorb all of Elena's roughness, empathizing with her abuse because of his own. He just kept following her continual orders having no other guide nor hope in life, feeling some sense of control under her tightly ruled home. Christian knew Elena couldn't control Mr. Lincoln's constant travel, so she exercised her control over Christian instead. And he welcomed this restraint on his life.

Mr. Lincoln left again, but this time he was to be gone for over a month and Elena didn't do well the first day the house was empty, but soon she and Christian fell into a daily routine that changed one Saturday morning when Elena drifted down the stairs and into the kitchen. Christian watching quietly.

"Morning, Master Grey. I don't know what your plans are today, but I'm going to be resting for most of it, so keep it down. I broke my own rules and drank too much wine while reading in bed. A stupid thing to do. I can hardly see."

"I can tell."

Elena turns on him and scowls.

"I mean, I can tell you can't see because your...well, you're not dressed."

With one hand holding the pitcher of orange juice and the other with an empty glass, Elena looks down to see she is only wearing a light pink push-up bra and panties.

"Oh...Well get used to it. I'm not exactly used to you walking around shirtless and in briefs. We're human beings, Christian." She pours juice into her glass and sets the pitcher back into the fridge.

"What kind of human beings?"

"Sexual ones." She turns around, and winks at Christian, then sips her juice. She pads out of the kitchen in a sexy sway that she doesn't regret.

Christian doesn't get why she's being so brazen, but understands the clear presence of another hard-on that's almost pressing up past the waistband of his cotton pajama pants. He adjusts himself, the touch of his hand and the memory of her ass, tight and bouncing a little as she walked out makes him moan. _Dammit. I can't live like this. Fucking myself with fantasies._

He gets up and walks to his room and takes a shower. Trying to conjure up a picture of this girl at school with long brown hair that sits quietly in the back of his English Lit class. He just wishes Amber from class would come over and walk around in her bra and panties instead. That was touchable.

Christian finds himself puking in the trash can of the men's restroom at school and not feeling better for it, but worse. Elena picks him up from school in her red Porsche Cayenne without hesitation. When Christian shuts the door of the car Elena looks at him with worry.

"Are you going to throw up again?" She brushes her fingers along his forehead then holds his cheek.

"Probably." He glances at her wondering why she dresses up in such nice clothes, curls her hair and puts makeup on to work from home all day. It annoys him. His face crunches together a little.

"Well, Christ. I'll drive fast."

Back in his bed, Ms. Green checks on Christian until she leaves for the day and Grace stops by, walking into his room so quietly he wakes up slowly, seeing her dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, just dropping by after work at the hospital.

"Christian, what other symptoms do you have? Anything in the chest?"

"No, mom. I'm fine. Just the flu. I'd rather just sleep."

"Okay, sweetheart. I'm glad you're doing so well here with Elena. You two do a lot of good for one another. You're doing better, your grades are up and you're not driving cars without a license. And Elena seems happier. She needs someone in the house when Lewis is gone so much. She'll never admit it, but she's been lonely all her life."

"Yeah."

Grace kisses Christian on the cheek and leaves. After sleeping for a couple hours Elena knocks on the door, coming in even though Christian doesn't say anything.

"How is Master Gray now? You're mom says you were fine, but to let you stay home from school tomorrow, if you like."

"I would like," he mumbles, then shifts the bed sheets off of him to sit up. Christians bare chest is filled out with muscle and his ab muscles line up in perfect rows, causing her eyes to drift. It's the body of a man, not a teenager.

"I would like that, too. I miss you when you go to school. The house is too quiet. I always look forward to you coming home and playing some ridiculously morose tune on the grand piano," she says lightly with a smile.

"I feel better. I'll go play something for you now." He rises up to his feet and begins to walk past Elena when her hand reactively reaches out and touches his chest. Christian is startled, looking at her face for direction.

"You need a shirt." She moves past him and picks up a white t-shirt hanging on a chair. Coming up from behind him she purposefully gets close enough to feel the heat from his body, sliding the shirt slowly over his head. Elena wants to feel his skin on hers, across her half-bare breasts that are up, and tucked inside a half-cupped demi-bra that's showing between her open shirt. She moves in and quietly presses her breasts against his back while he pushed his arms through the arm holes. Her nipples turn hard at the touch. Backing up from him she unrolls the shirt, letting her hand trace his back one last time.

"Sorry."

"No."

Normally aloof and acting like nothing bothers him, Christian becomes confused and unable to believe Elena is touching him so sensually. It's wrong. He knows it, but the energy building between them is hard to resist. He can't do anything without her though, so he just stands there waiting.

"Play me something, Christian. Go." Elena gives him a little push and he tromps downstairs to play alone, wondering where she is in the house, what she is doing, but knowing she's listening to him.

Elena feels the insanity in her building exponentially. She paces the halls a lot, talking on the phone to clients, lawyers, sales people, everyone but her husband that hasn't called over the several weeks since he left. Christian watches her, knowing she's at her most vulnerable after being without sex for four weeks and her period having just ended. She's so in need of dominating her husband, which takes her back to her teenage years and reverses what happened to her, excusing her guilty need for intense, painful sex. Even Elena notices her sex is constantly flexed, holding back and hurting almost because of it. It doesn't help that the nights are dark and long, rain falling constantly, and nothing but work to distract her. She's left to touch herself to relieve the harsh pain/pleasure that engulfs her, especially in the early evening, but it's never satiates her need. Her muscles coil back up and begin the entire process of begging her for a real orgasm all over again.

Elena slams the phone down on the desk and screams, "Damn this!"

It's after six and the house is empty except for Elena at her office desk and Christian at the piano. He stops playing after hearing her yell and goes to her. Slumped in her chair, she's staring listlessly out the window at the pouring rain and the flicker of lights across the water.

"How may I help you, Elena."

"I can't look at you, let alone hold a conversation with you right now. Go away, Christian."

Christian can't help this urge in him to please Elena and he senses her need. He leaves her dark, overly ornate office then promptly returns with a glass filled with her favorite red wine, setting it almost silently on her desk.

She fingers the base of the glass, but does nothing else but consider it. Her shoulders slacken finally under Christian's firm pressure into the muscles that are waiting for this. Standing over her and behind the chair, he glances down past her shoulders and into her blouse, open enough to see her breasts swaying slowly to her breathing and the movement of his hands on her body.

His eyes close as do hers, then his hands begin slipping down just a little bit after rolling her muscles, nervously skimming his thumbs down the slopes of her breasts as he caresses her arms. There's no protest. Christian can't believe his own boldness, but she's made so many passes at him lately, he knows she's open to him even though he's only fifteen and she's thirteen years older and legally not suppose to be seducing him.

He blindly finds her nipples through her laced black bra and glances down again, watching her legs spread a little. Neither one of them cares of how wrong it is, they're alone in a house with nothing stopping them. He remembers her yelling, "Reach around and touch my clitoris. Now!" Leaning down, his face presses into her hair, and he breathes her in fully. Her scent is deep and velvety, and he wonders if she smells the same way between her legs.

His fingers trickle lightly down her belly then quickly past her skirt to touch the warm skin of her exposed thighs._ I want to touch her clitoris. See what sweet sound she makes._ Her breath catches in her throat and he responds by breathing heavily into her ear. There's nothing to his sexual history and he is in a nervous place where he doesn't know what's going to please her, or piss her off. Her legs spread even farther apart, her hips tilting forward, wanting him.

Running the tips of his fingers up her black skirt he finds her matching lace panties, so taut to her skin he doesn't know how to breach the barrier, hesitating, just smoothing his fingers over the material that's covering her most preciously sensitive spot. Elena slaps her hand on top of his, keeping his hand between her legs, and throwing her head back against her brown leather chair. "Christian, I can't do this. It's so wrong. It's so fucking wrong. Please. You're killing me." Her hand is pushing the heel of his hand wickedly hard against her pubic bone and she roles herself against him. His erection is hard against the chair. He wants to throw her on the hard wooden floor and fuck her, but he only sort of knows the mechanics of it.

Christian feels the moisture pooling in her panties with the tips of his fingers. He can't take anymore of this teasing than she can. "Show me. Show me your room." He finds his way through and slides two fingers into her panties and she moans. Her need for him makes him feel as if he owns the world he's revolting silently against every day. Christians hand caressing her wet lips makes him feel powerful enough to overcome everything he hates about his inconsequential life.

"I want to hear you come, Elena." She shoves his hand away and spins her chair around, standing up to meet him in one swift motion. "It's not like that! It's not 'show me'. It's about what_ I_ can do to you in that room. Damn you and you're gorgeous body you flaunt in front of me every day. And you purposefully tease me, knowing my predicament. This is your fault!" she points a finger at him.

She pulls open a desk drawer and snags a key, grabbing his hand, then rushing him upstairs and into the sex room Christian has been trying to imagine for two months.

He takes one look, confused and shocked for two seconds by the huge bed, strange wooden scaffolding and torture devices with restraints, then looks at Elena. Nothing can distract him from what he wants; her in that bed over there...sprawled out...naked and wet for him. He reaches for her and she slaps his hand. She's done that before, it's nothing new.

"Lie down on the bed, Mr. Grey." She's never said that before, so he walks over, his tight, round behind thoroughly inspected by her. She tightens inside and hides a moan.

The four sets of leather and metal handcuffs are chained to the bedposts and are laid out. She speaks low, but very seriously as she preps him. "I'm restraining you, Mr. Grey. All four appendages. You'll enjoy this. I'll go light on you. Are there any limits you have Mr. Grey?"

"None with you, Ms. Elena." He felt triumphant and bold, finally about to live out the fantasies in his head, but none had him pinned down to a bed.

"You have limits with other women?" She pulls his pajama pants down and off his ankles, gasping at his length; greater than any she's seen before. _Does he have to be so deliciously large?_

"I've never had any other women, Ms. Elena. Only you."

"You haven't had me. You'll never have me. I'm going to have you all the way to next fucking week, Mr. Grey. Prepare to lose your useless male virginity. You'll never get it back again. Do you hear me?" she growled.

"Yes, Ms. Elena." She yanks on his right leg and shackles it, then the left, so that he's spread out in the shape of an x.

Christian watches as she unloosens a stick with a piece of folded leather on the tip from where it hangs on the wall, feeling truly nervous for the first time.

"You don't follow my rules...you get nipped with this riding crop. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said, distracted by the sex tool that was totally new to him, wondering how it was going to feel against his skin. A crisp smack comes across the fleshy backside of his hip and he flinches.

"Don't touch my chest." His voice is tight and scared. "Never. That's my limit. Don't. Touch. My. Chest," he warns clearly, fright in his eyes.

"So, you do have limits. Fine and well, Mr. Grey. It's been noted and will be adhered to. Anything else? Or does the riding crop help your recollection?" Another hard hit to his other hip. Another flinch.

"No!"

"No, what?"

"No, Ms. Elena." His mind clicks, wondering just how long she's been training him for this.

Elena gets on the bed barefoot, but still in her clothes, standing over him so he can watch. Pulling a hair tie from her wrist she gathers her long golden hair behind her, securing every piece. Christian squirms, knowing instinctively that he wants to pull on her ponytail...hard...while he penetrates her from behind, but he's restrained and can't move, just his head as he lifts to watch. She taps her cool foot on his long, lean inner thigh.

"Settle down." Her eyes are on him and they stay. She likes this. Wanting him to know at all times she's in charge and will dictate everything that takes place in the playroom with Christian. With orderliness in mind she unbuttons her blouse and lays it on the bench at the end of the bed. He's watching, waiting to see her nude for the first time. Her skirt falls and she bends down at the waist. Putting a quick arc in her lower back she slowly lifts herself up, folding her skirt as she does. After laying the skirt down she swishes her long ponytail back and forth, her back arched still so her bum is out, the strands of her hair touching her panties. She lowers her panties and lets them pool around her ankles, standing upright like a beautiful nude model, allowing her hair to brush against her newly tanned behind. _She's too fucking skinny, but I want her tits in my mouth._

"Would you like to touch me, Mr. Grey?" She reaches behind her and unsnaps her braw, tossing it to the bench. Fully nude, nipples erect and hard, Christian can't stop staring, taking in every inch of her body. She kneels between his legs and kisses him on the side of his knee and all the way up his leg, stopping just before it ends, doing the same on the other side. Her tongue flat, wet and warm, presses down against his length and glides upward, flicking the tip several times then sucking it quickly. She releases when he flexes his hips ever so slightly.

"Oh, damn," he mumbles.

"Keep your body flush to the bed, Mr. Grey. Makes it easier on everyone. If you can't, I tighten the restraints."

Straddling him, she respectfully remembers his off-limit chest, and places her hand on the bed to help lift herself. She places his tip directly on her sex and breathes through her clenched teeth. It feels so soft, so pistol hard against her.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Mr. Grey," she warns. Her anticipation. His anticipation. It's painful, luscious and...enough to make him come before he even loses his virginity. She slides down over him and she becomes audibly pleased, but his pleasure is deep within...quiet.

"You're being fucked, Mr. Grey. Do you want more of this fucking?" She's moving up and down on him so slowly it hurts.

"Fuck, yes," he strains through his teeth.

A snap against his side is felt and he flexes inside her. He's flexing, just as she likes. That's what the crop makes him do.

"Yes, Ms. Elena," he corrects his mistake. _Oh, that feels good._ She snaps the crop against him again, then again, and she's moving him into her, pushing him up inside her and back out slowly while he flexes firm inside her with each lick of the biting crop. His restraints are keeping him from moving his hips, but maybe an inch. In...and...out he goes. Up high to the tip then down. She whips him again, harder this time. As she rises above him she pulls him out of her even slower than before, the rounding tip barely inside her. There's a straining moment of anxiousness while there's no movement.

She lets him go completely and he yells. "No, please. Jesus!"

Elena takes the riding crop and cocks it behind her back and begins to gently tap the leather tip against his tender area beneath him, rhythmic and tormenting.

"Better?" He doesn't answer. "Open your eyes and look at me Mr. Grey. Watch me."

Christians hard grey eyes open and he takes Elena in. She's riding him like a jockey on a racehorse, sliding herself back and forth on his erection, torturing him with the licks of the riding crop.

"Please, Ms. Elena."

"Please, what?"

"Please, fuck me."

"Why."

"Because I want you. Fuck!"

Elena lifts up on her knees above him, holds him up, and slips herself over his erection, sliding him in all the way, starting a new dance that has him feeling sensations rising up everywhere in his body. Her hips flex down and hard against him, then back up. She throws the riding crop down and focuses entirely on pulling him in and out of her, increasing the timing. She groans. Her hand almost lands on his chest, but she finds the bed, pounding on top of him harder, their connection sweet.

Her muscles pull around him and swirl up, deep inside, then swirl back down, clenching him. The rhythm is set and it works. In...and...out, over and over again, until the pressure is too great. She can feel him beginning to growl, now pulse without control.

"Go ahead, Christian. Come inside me. Now!" At the same time, they unravel their muscles together, and the release is pounding, hurling her in and out of him, then finally they both fall. She almost lands into his chest, but remembers, laying halfway across him, the rest of her on the bed. Eventually he slips out without wanting to, and she reaches around to release his hands, crawling down to undo the leather bands around his ankles, kissing them after each release. Those metal clicking sounds, the chains clinking.

Christian frowns. _I'm sharing her._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mornings in the Lincoln household are filled with quiet patterings, a couple clinks of glass and the voices of the staff bouncing off tall ceilings and barren corridors. Christian matches each sound with a picture of what might be happening, gazing emptily at the ceiling of his bedroom with arms folded behind his head, trying to forget about screwing his mother's friend last night. When there isn't a sound to play match with he battles over how much he wants Elena to overtake him again, sickened by the deviant need that seems a worse deed than driving his mother's cars into lakes.

He drops languidly to the floor, catching himself in a plank position just above the wood planks, pushing out a hard, blood-warming blow of air. One...two...three. By the fiftieth push-up he begins to perspire, a light glimmer sweeping across his skin, which is accommodating his lengthening body, preparing for his last growth spurt. He feels his joints and muscles begging to be used like this, anything to lessen the tightening that makes him feel anxious and sometimes crippled.

At one hundred he bolts up and rests his hands down on the dresser that has a large mirror facing him, glancing up to see what his workout has done for his bulging biceps and pectorals, now smooth and wet. He knows his body is perfect, all told in the bulk of his squared shoulders that are drawn down a bit by his long, chiseled arms. But then he catches his grey eyes staring back at him. They're cold and mean, so un-approving of what's not reflected immediately in the mirror. Christian slaps at his reflection in the glass and turns to the bed, ripping off the bed sheet and floating it across the room in one sweeping movement to hang over the mirror.

"Fuck it. Another day, I guess."

After a shower he slides on a pair of old soft jeans with a hole in the knee and a long-sleeved flannel shirt he had the maid wash exactly twenty times before he wore it, tearing out the designer label at the back of the neck. Christian isn't worrying over facing Elena—she's easy—its school he hates. Life in general. The assholes he has fight just to get to his locker. He tells himself he can learn more from sitting down at home reading a dictionary than waiting all day on attendance checks, speeches about meaningless fundraisers, and inane teachers wanting students to memorize the names of dead dictators and how many people they murdered. _Why not learn something useful like the fucking GNP of third world nations and its current effect on their economy and if it's viable for the future?_ He throws his bag strap across his body and heads downstairs.

"Master Grey. Orange juice?" Elena has been waiting for thirty minutes to see Christian walk into the kitchen and sit on the same exact stool he sits on every day at the island.

"Sure." For courtesy only he meets her eyes then drops them to his figgiting fingers that remind him that he didn't masterbate this morning. It's the first time in years that he didn't feel compelled to do it in the morning.

"Sure? Did you say 'sure'? I've heard you speak better to my staff! Are you trying to tell me something, Christian? We need to be able to trust one another here. Remember the contract? Talk to me."

Rarely taken off his rails, Christian angers at her control over him, the way she rattles him to a point where he can't control his own body. Her snappiness makes him want to throw her up against the wall and fuck her.

"May I please have some orange juice?" He glances up at her through hooded eyes of impatience, trying to ignore the small pointed bumps pressing through her silk robe that are making him salivate. He scrapes his tongue with his finger nail as punishment.

"What is your problem, Master Grey? I thought I would find you in a blissful state of being for having been served a feast last night? A short and unplanned feast, but a feast nonetheless. How ungrateful of you." Her words are chastising, but her body is at sharp, curving angles; hip thrust out, shoulders rounded and lips wet.

"I apologize."

Elena pours a glass of juice, letting her eyes rove over his face and then to his waves of amber locks she wants to fist together and caress her entire body with. She could make him do it. With some time, he'll want to do it. She walks around the island, places the glass in front of him, then stands there observing, trying vigilantly to reverse her hedonistic thoughts that have Christian bent down before her, naked and ready to kiss the inside of her thigh. She's confident she can overcome it and do better by him.

"Thank you, Ms. Elena."

"Article Two, Section One states very clearly that our relationship must be based on trust. And trust is built through honest communication and living a consistent lifestyle everyday, without fail. Do you trust me, Christian?"

"I did."

"Oh, please." Elena looks around and listens for Ms. Green, remembering she's upstairs cleaning her bedroom at this point. She leans into Christians ear and presses her chest into his shoulder. "You're the one that stuck your fingers into my panties and begged me to take you to my room. I certainly didn't expect _you_ to be seducing me."

Christian whips around to face her. "You're the one rubbing your tits all over me!" he growls.

"You're right." She throws her hands up. "So it's done. It won't happen again. I'm amending the contract to include a dress code and a no touch policy. You don't get to touch me."

"Fine with me." He takes up his juice and slugs it down.

"Fine." There's a great pause as Elena serves Christian his favorite cereal with milk. "We'll leave in ten minutes for school."

"Thank you."

When Elena drives up in front of Christian's private school he flops down into the passenger seat and sighs. He looks to her and notices she's frowning at him.

"Two things, Christian. One, never do anything to a woman that makes her wrinkle her face like I am doing now." She swirls a long red fingernail at her forehead. "Two, never dump yourself down into a seat. You slide in gently like a gentleman. It's horribly unattractive for a man to just drop into a chair. It's uncivilized behavior and I won't have you doing it. You just took a month's worth of life out of the shocks in this car."

"I apologize, Ms. Elena. I'll try and be more courteous to your shocks," he snips.

It's ridiculous how gorgeous and older he looks, but it doesn't make him eighteen, so she averts her eyes.

"If you want someone to respect you, your body and your things, you have to show some respect for others. Now quit being a shit and lets get you home so you can have your piano lesson."

Elena pulls out of the parking lot and sighs just as purposefully, "Listen, I'm having a cocktail party this weekend with clients and business associates at the house. You don't have to be there or anything, nor avoid it, but you're welcome to drink and eat with us if you want." She eyes him warmly. "You know...if you wore something I bought you then you could easily pass for twenty-one and drink whatever you like. I don't care, you know."

"I'll think about it."

"Don't you have any friends, Christian?"

"Honestly, I really don't give a fuck about anybody right now."

"I know that feeling. It gets old, though. You have to have someone you can trust. Even if it's a fucked up, damaged married lady that's got a labido powerful enough to fuel a race car around the track for the next century."

Christian leans back into the supple leather seat and turns to look at Elena. Finally, she's admitting her problem.

"It's my sorry excuse for an apology. You know I don't want to hurt you. The whole reason I took you in is because I saw myself in you; lying in that hospital bed, all fearless, indestructible and screwed up. We're not any different...you and me."

Screwed up is right. This resonates with Christian, taking him inside himself and to the hurtful spot in his chest that reminds him he'll never fit into a world that won't allow him to rage against it the way he wants to. By punching his way through it, making everyone suffer like he did.

"Maybe," he says.

"One day you'll see."

After dinner is served to Elena's guests, and people are getting properly drunk, Christian finds his way into the kitchen, nibbling on leftovers that are lined up on the counter by the caterers. An uncorked bottle of wine sits alone on the marble counter, unclaimed and unserved, so he snatches it up and pours it sloppily and to the rim of a large tumbler he pulled from the steaming dishwashing. He gulps the wine until a cold hand slips down his side.

"Look at you all dressed up," Elena drops her voice and lets it smoke. "You look impressive in a suit. Now I want you to notice how different people will treat you." She flips her hair and he inhales the expensive scent mixing with her spicy body chemistry. "Screw those kids you go to school with. These are the kind of people you want to hang with, people that move millions of dollars around daily, fly to Japan for tea and Australia for a beer and a roll in the sand. All in the same day. Christian—," she slides an olive into her mouth and sucks the remaining juice from her finger and swallowing it whole"—I could have you running your own company and turning million-dollar profits by the time you're legal to drink that," she points to the tumbler of wine he's draining as she speaks. "Interested?"

"Maybe." He can actually feel the excitement of her proposition harden him; numbing the rest of his body.

"That's the second indecisive 'maybe' you've given me today. It's a sign of weakness and that's the last thing you are, Christian. You're strong, powerful and intelligent. And it's my job to get you to utilize those talents. We just need to graduate you from that soul-sucking, waste-of-time high school of yours. There's nothing real world about it. And I know because I went there, too."

Elena gracefully pours wine into a wine glass and hands it to Christian.

"Alright, I'm in. I've got nothing better to do."

"No, you really don't. And if we're going to live in this god-forsaken world, we might as well be in control of it."

They clink glasses and turn their heads to watch an older gentleman stride in confidently, unbuttoning his dinner jacket and sliding his hands into his pant pockets as he stops in front of them.

"So this is where the party migrated to. Just follow the food trail and the most beautiful woman." He leans in and kisses Elena heavily on the cheek, lingering, and even adding a soft pinch to her chin. He uses the same hand to shake with Christian.

"I'm John Nelson."

While Christian extends his hand and opens his mouth Elena interrupts, "John, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey and I are going to partner on a new business venture."

"Are you? Part of this new make-up line? Or maybe something a little more interesting?" He moves closer to Elena and she plays it with a slight push of her hip into his pants.

"We might piggy-back on what I'm doing with my salons, but we're going to expand, get into technology."

"Very smart of you two. Let me know if you become interested in POS systems. Elena certainly knows how to find me." John wraps his arm around her waist and tugs on her. His plastic smile and medium grade blue suit catches Christian's attention, making him wonder why Elena even feigns kindness for such a loser.

"Alright, John. Just because Lewis isn't here to entertain you doesn't mean you need to paw at me for it. Let's get back to the party, shall we?" She looks back. "Come along, Christian, I have an angel investor here I'd like you to meet. He specializes in shipping."

_And I'd like to ship her right into my bed, but she doesn't do normal beds. _Christian tosses back the last bits of wine from the second glass of wine and follows her, watching her still young body slink under the shifting silk dress that massages her backside.

It's hard for him to not keep an eye on Elena, the youngest most beautiful woman working the party of sixty or so people meandering about her house, laughing and trading insider gossip while the hired piano player keeps a soft tune going in the background.

The crowd shifts in pockets, most people moving into couples, singles going for drink runs to the bar when glasses go dry and they can't seem to locate the two waiters that are out taking a smoke break in the backyard. Christian is pulled into different conversations, people curious of the young entrepreneur they believe has just graduated college maybe and he doesn't correct them.

After several hours Christian notices Elena and John Nelson are missing. Without hesitation Christian excuses himself and treks through several hallways, past her empty office, then up the stairs. The idea of the drunk bastards hands on Elena infuriates him and the familiar feeling of anger rises up in him with each step to the second floor. He stops at the landing and hold his breath, listening. After several seconds there's a light pound on the wall, followed by a muffled male voice. The sounds come from the East wing, so he runs quietly on the balls of his feet, halting in front of Elena's bedroom. A place that's seems more private than her thoughts, and completely off limits to him.

"John, just let it rest! I don't care what it is you think you know!" A clear slap is heard and that's all it takes for Christian to throw open the double doors to find Elena pushed up against a large armoire, both forearms clasped by John's hands. He's laughing, swaying a bit on his feet and watching Christian's anger manifest in a solid fist, swinging straight into John's jaw, the momentum throwing him to the floor.

John holds his jaw and looks up at Elena. "Was that what you were looking for, babe?" He smiles and grunts as he gets up and puts a drunk slap to Christian's shoulder. "Just do what she says, man. Her roots run deep." He pushes off Christian like he needs the momentum to walk out the bedroom door, hitting his shoulder on the door on his way out.

"I was handling him just fine," she said roughly.

"What? And you think I'm ungrateful? Whatever, Elena." He turns away and runs a long line with his hand through his hair.

She runs up behind him, her high heels clipping the floor, until she grabs his hand, swinging him back into her. She keeps pushing him backward in long, tango-esque strides until his back finds the wall. The energy between them, the want for one another is making the room close in on them and darken.

"There's nothing sexier than a man defending a woman's honor. You did well, Master Grey. Really, really well."

Avoiding his chest she holds onto his shoulders, their height matched perfectly. Eyes across from eyes, mouth across from mouth, shoulders level. Christian suctions his hands to the wall, resisting her temptingly hot body and luring voice with everything he has. He remembers her request clearly, and even in his monumental need to rebel he has to follow her demands. It's the only thing anchoring him.

"Just how far can your control go, Christian? Hmmm?" She begins to play with him. Her mouth hovering just above his cheek, then tracing his jaw line down past his neck, her finger gently pulling at the edge of his shirt as it slips to his pants. She drops to her knees, outlining the long hard ridge in his pants...all without touching. "Oh, silly me, I forgot. I can touch." She unzips his plants and pulls up on his length, causing his head to slam up against the wall and moan loudly. The sensation shoots up through his body and he feels as though he could completely unravel in her hand.

She's burning for him, but she has to send a message. "Oh, you told me not to touch you like that. Woops!" She gives a little shrug then walks out through the double doors and back down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

***Short, but sweet.** **I'm writing blind here, so post comments for change or things you'd like to see. Everything is welcome. **

Elena's never felt this intense amount of power before. Not even when she has her husband, Lewis, shackled, blindfolded, gagged and on all fours begging her to relieve him of his pent up desire to simply make love to her; his wife he loves so dearly. On the stairwell back downstairs to the party she finds John Anderson athletically skipping steps all the way to the landing, then grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter's tray with utter grace. _Stupid prick. I've got to get him out of here._

Christian can't move. His back solidly backed against Elana's bedroom wall, panting away the hardness in his pants, not daring to unloose his splayed hands from the wall just yet. He knows he's an intelligent kid, but everything that Elena does knocks him down to the ground and into a sexual frenzy that eats at his sensibilities. He's just smart enough to understand that his need for Elena's attention, whether its reprimanding and cruel, or masterfully sensual, is keeping him alive. Somewhere inside him there's a voice telling him he deserves her punishment; her slapping hand and unmanageable moods. This is what he knows, and it feels natural to receive it.

What doesn't feel natural is the Grey household and all of its disgusting perfection. No one knows pain there. They all float on clouds of happiness that include this strange concept of having unconditional love and trust in one another. And they hug too damn much. It leaves a fowl, gritty and poisonous feeling in Christians mouth as soon as he walks through the door with the though.

After the guests leave, Elena finds Christian brooding in a slouched posture over the island counter, nursing a bottle of wine with no glass in sight.

"Oh, Christian, please. Sit up straight and I'll retrieve a glass for you. This isn't after hours at a frat party." She puts a fresh, stemless wine glass down near his free hand and spins it. "If I have my way with you...you'll never see a college campus, only the 30th floor of the Trump Tower."

"If I'm not going to be dead..." He swigs again from the dark brown bottle. "...I want to be at some fancy ivy league school. I want to punch the fuck out of every bastard there."

"Not very productive, Master Grey. You need to take all that anger and let it motivate you in business. Why punch a guy out when you can take all of his money and power away from him? You might as well walk away with something more than a fleeting boost to your already over-extended ego."

Christian's posture straightens with a long, thinking shrug of his shoulders, considering Elena's offer. _She's right. She's always fucking right. Even when she cock teases me. _

"Here." She tosses the same blue folder as before at him and it slaps down on the counter loudly, unexpectedly. "No allowances for change this time. We're standing on the precipice here, Christian. You sign, giving your consent, or you leave this house tomorrow morning and don't ever look back at me, because I won't be looking back for you."

There's a slow rise in the band of tension that's encircling them, drawing them together in a heated pool of distrust and anger. She pulls her eyes away from him and snaps her heels all the way to her room, leaving Christian sitting in the empty and perfectly clean kitchen alone. Grasping the wine bottle firmly he aims carefully, sliding the glass Elena gave him directly under the stream of wine now cascading into the glass. Filled entirely to the rim, he draws a long and thoughtful sip, spilling just a bit and to the edge of the contract that's now open and holding Christian's gaze with the words: Amendments are as follows: Master Christian Grey is forbidden to touch Mrs. Elena Lincoln on all accounts. Punishment will be rendered quickly upon Master Christian Grey with any infraction of said amendment. This amendment overrides all previous sections of this contract.

Due to the fact that Mrs. Lincoln is Master Grey's temporary guardian and owner of the home wherein they reside, Mrs. Lincoln has full control over Master Grey's schedule, activities and whereabouts. In return for Master Grey's obedience to the current contract and amendment, Mrs. Lincoln will provide Master Grey with driving lessons, a brand new car of his choice (for which he will not drive into local waterways), free reign of his living quarters, the allowance of drinking alcohol (but only when Mrs. Lincoln deems it is safe to do so, and dictates the amount consumed) and lastly, and most importantly, Mrs. Grey will promise to accept Master Grey for who he is.

_Holy fuck. She's absolutely back-ass-wards crazy._ Christian wipes the wetness away from the paper and sucks his fingers of the wine. _And yet she's the only one crazy and fucked up enough to understand me._

# # #

Though Elena has complimented Christian on his talent for decisiveness, she has also reprimanded him for indecision; a "sign of weakness" she scolded him. The non-descript blue folder lay open next to Christian, his eyes re-reading the new clause—that both takes away his power, and gives him freedom from his past—until he can't comprehend what exactly he's reading anymore. One thought finally strains out of the overbearing muck, and it's the only one that seems important to him: he needs her, someone who gets him, someone who can give him exactly what he wants; power and a shameful amount of physical pain that kills the emotional pain that's never waned, not one moment during his entire life.

Chimes from his alarm go off, lighting up a fire of anger in Christian the next morning. He pulls his face from the contract, wiping a small amount of drool left on the page somewhere near the dried wine stain. He reads: Master Christian Grey is forbidden to touch Mrs. Elena Lincoln on all accounts. _What the hell does that mean? No more fucking? Maybe that's good. Maybe I can finally relax around here. _

To prove it to himself, that he can live under the same roof with a gorgeously kept wife-you-want-to-fuck without losing his mind, he grinds his hips into the mattress and luxuriates in the super soft cotton sheets that caress his uncovered rod of strength that lusts for her superbly soft lips that clenched around him just nights ago.

_Fuck...me!_

Initial contact with his flesh is strikingly hot and almost lands him in an instant release of the massive tension wound up inside of him. He forces the next thought, picturing instead the young, delicate girl with long brown hair from his class, her small perk breasts and her easily blushing cheeks that match her wet pink lips. _Yeah, it's her that I want._ His long, piano-playing fingers slide her brown corduroy skirt up, the one she wears every Tuesday, and finds no underwear to hinder his tongue from lashing against the tiny tip of skin between her legs that makes her moan loudly in want. She's not so shy after all, even when she's bent over and laying flat along the length of the teachers desk, trying to grasp at his mop of hair covering his eyes and blanketing her soft hair that warms her soft mound between her hips. _Oh, fuck yes. _

She's up on her forearms watching him watch her, sliding his tongue up along her belly then quickly to her breasts for a quick nip then a solid plunge inside her. She falls back in silence, pulling in and out of her warmth and wetness with the greatest care, enjoying the fact that he recognizes this feeling for himself now, and knows it well. It's an unimaginable force of nature to be wrapped so tightly by something so malleable and interminably tender. It's coming. And now there's a twisted ache that's screaming for something harder, more punishing. Christian grabs at her chestnut hair and yanks it, using it to hold on for the ride, wild and untamed, he plunges in...out...faster on the push back inside of her, then it comes and he throws into her one last time as he explodes inside her, everything is lit up in white pin-point lights. _I can do this._

He grabs a pen from the night stand and scribbles his name on a line just below Elena's conspicuous signature; Mrs. Elena Lincoln. _Why do I feel like I'm signing my life away on that fucking line? Come on, Christian. You've got no life._


	4. Chapter 4

It's just a little bit strange to orgasm over a girl that sits two seats back and to the left in English Literature class, second period. Only three hours after Christian fantasized about pounding himself into her on the teachers desk, he's sitting that close to her. He looks up at the simple brown desk with papers and a laptop sitting on top of it, then back at Amber. His eyes slide up her bare white legs and realizes its Monday and she's wearing a blue silk skirt that makes everything worse for him. With a quick shy glance from her it throws his body into a fit and he's finding himself maneuvering himself in his seat to keep from getting hard all over again, but it's useless, she's stuck in his head.

Between classes he sees Amber's long straight brown hair first, as she snakes her way to her locker, narrowly avoiding the bodies around her that are all twice her size. _I've got nothing to lose at this point. Nothing. _

Christian glides up next to her open locker. "Amber, hey."

She looks right at him, then around him. "You know my name?"

"From the first week of school, yeah."

"Oh."

"I was wondering if you'd like to get something to eat after school today." He thought of her wearing her Tuesday, short brown skirt. "Or tomorrow."

Amber flushes and looks away. She's being asked out by the most gorgeous guy in the entire school and is also known for getting into fights with random guys. It's sexy, but it's scary as hell.

"Umm...I guess that would be fine."

"Fine? Like your morbidly curious, or fine you're actually interested in me?"

"Wow. You get straight to the point."

"I don't like to fuck around too much."

"Good. We have that in common." She shuts the locker door slowly. "Fine, I'm actually interested in you."

Christian's rigid body loosens and he smiles boyishly at her, Amber's acceptance of him is a warm light in what is otherwise total cold darkness.

"Today?"

"Tomorrow." Amber knows instinctively that she needs to make him work for her. He's exactly the type that pounces quickly, not waiting around to talk it over with his prey before devouring them, but she might not mind that, especially from Christian Grey. You just don't say no to someone that exudes that much natural sexuality and grace.

"I'll meet you here after seventh period," he confirms, not wanting her to mistake the time or forget him.

She smiles her little smile and somehow slips into one of the many currents of students swimming down the hallway. Christian leans up against the lockers and stares after her, memorizing every inch of her body and how it moves swiftly, almost awkwardly because she's still growing, but with the smallest most wonderfully round ass. _I'm going to fuck her on that fucking desk in English Lit. Just watch me. I'm going to make her come so hard she won't ever want to leave me._

Elena pulls up in front of school and honks twice at the unmoving car in front of her that left at least four car spaces empty in front of them. _Pull the hell up! Are you blind? The idiots at this school!_

The sound of the seal of the door being broken open catches Elena's attention. Christian begins to throw himself into the car carelessly then remembers to slide in slowly.

"Better," she says.

Elena slams the heal of her hand against the steering column and they car horn beeps loudly, now she's stuck between cars. "I don't know how you survive at this school."

"There are beautiful girls to stare at all day."

"Really? Fascinating. Do tell."

"What's there to tell?" He's smiling garishly; in such a playful mood.

"Did you fuck someone today?!" Elena erupts in anger and Christian throws up a wall.

"Maybe I did. What's it to you? It's not in the contract."

"Yes, it is. It says I have a say in your schedule and activities. Fucking is an activity."

"I didn't fuck anybody. Where would I do it?"

"In the auditorium, of course."

"You fucked someone in the auditorium when you went to school here?"

"This isn't about me." Elena swerves out of the parking lot, trying to throw her raging jealousy into the car.

"I can't believe you're jealous. You're obviously fucking around with that John Anderson asshole."

"I am doing no such thing, Christian. I have standards. And they are un-obtainably high."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You're ego is out of control. And I'm going to tame it."

Christian eyes her with restraint, feeling that awkward nervousness just thinking about Elena wanting to have sex with him again.

Elena pulls herself together and sighs. "Would you like to be with the girl you were smiling about earlier?" Elena dares a look at him that's dough-eyed and innocent. "It's okay if you do. I get that." Christian's silence is her answer. Though she's furious she looks unaffected. "So, what's her name?"

"Amber."

"What class do have with her?"

"English Literature."

"She's a delicate violet type. Probably petite and shy, right? But wears short skirts with blousy tops to hide her tiny breasts. I know the type. They're teases, Christian. Under that quiet, cute little facade is a manipulative bitch that will lead you on for years with her unbreakable virginity. Have a good time with that."

"Gee, thanks."

She's planted her evil seed, ignoring Christians horrible manners she'd like to spank him for.

Soon. Very soon.


	5. How it Began: Chapter 5

*I'm going to keep Amber around for a bit. She's the only healthy character.

Chapter 5

Without waiting for Elena to get out of her bright red S-class Mercedes Christian bounds to his room to get the blue folder from the night stand. He runs back downstairs and slaps it down on Elena's desk. She reaches for it, but Christian snags it back, opening it up to the contract and ripping the last page out, then shredding it raggedly, letting the scraps fall to her desk.

"I want to stay here. But not if you're controlling every bit of my life. That's insane. There's some clinical term for it, I'm sure, but I'm not interested." There was absolutely no way for him to know what Elena was thinking. Her face was placid, stoney and entirely too beautiful.

"Master Grey, sit down and tell me exactly why it is that you are here."

He hesitates. There are several reasons and he doesn't know which one she wants to hear.

"I drove mom's car into the Sound at high tide. I don't know." After six weeks of living in Elena's house, neither of them had sat down to talk like this, not about why he was staying there or if it was actually helping him get over his suicidal tendencies.

"And because you're mom was at her wits end with your selfishness. You were killing your family, not yourself. You knew you'd survive every one of your idiotic attempts." With a slow slide, Christian dipped low in the leather chair and held his head up with his hand.

"Jesus, are we really going to go through this now?"

"I said you could stay here a couple of weeks and now we're into six, and suddenly I'm a psychiatric ward." Christians blood burned inside him. "When people are out of control they need boundaries set for them and that's what I can do for you...here. If you'd just get over yourself for a minute."

"This isn't going anywhere, Ms. Elena. I've been suicide free, getting perfect grades, no fights...and you're suddenly all motherly because I'm interested in a girl at school."

"I will never be motherly," she laughs bitterly. "I direct. I plan. I execute. I dole out discipline." She tapped each word into her desk. She shakes her head then stands up to pace. "What happened between us, doesn't have to happen again, it's tight quarters around here sometimes. I don't want that to hurt what we have here together." She pauses for effect. "I want you here." Stopping right in front of him, Elena leans up against her desk and crosses her bare legs, extending them out toward Christian.

"Then stop trying to control everything I do."

"I'll try. Can I at least be able to give you advice?"

"Yes. I already liked your advice about the auditorium." Elena gasps in horror and Christian grins quietly at the win. But if he weren't so inwardly focused he would have automatically suspected Elena of a scheme, a long drawn out one that's there to teach him the greatest lesson of his life.

# # #

As the bells ring out all across the school at 2 PM Tuesday, Christian is already waiting at Amber's locker, back slumped up against the wall of lockers looking casual when she shows up. Nervously she twists the locker combination left and right.

"You're prompt. Where are we going?"

"Cafe Lusa." He already has the entire afternoon, and hopefully the evening, planned out perfectly.

"I'm not really hungry yet. How about a walk first. The park?" An inkling of irritation sets course through his veins, but he keeps it in check for the moment.

"Fine. A walk."

Amber looks in her locker mirror and gathers her long straight brown hair into a ponytail. As her arms raise up and behind her head, Christian notes how this posture makes her bum stick out a little and her breasts pop out toward him, the nipples hard and pressing against her loose shirt. After she winds a band around her hair she looks into Christians dark slate eyes and stops, wide-eyed and feeling naked before him. _That look he gives! How is someone so gorgeous allowed to have such a fucking look?_

Just the look in his eyes has her feeling moist and particularly warm, a sensual feeling that's never touched her before, making her worry about her attraction to him. She circles lip gloss over her and over again, making them shimmer then slide back and forth to spread the liquid around to every corner of her mouth. Every muscle near her pelvis is pulsing, low and sweet, making her want to hold her breath. I'm going to break every oath I gave my parent for this guy. Holy shit he's beautiful. I mean...his lips alone...

The halls are are almost empty, only a couple stragglers making it out towards the main doors. Without warning Amber pushes Christian into the closed lockers with an unrelenting kiss that takes him off guard. She's on her tip-toes, reaching around his neck to practically hang from him. To help her, he clasps her behind, loving the soft feel of the corduroy under his fingers, and lifts her up to him, then turns her around so her back is against the lockers instead. She's amazed at what he does to her. It's unlike anything she could ever imagine.

He shoves his hardened length against her and she pants, "Oh my god, Christian. I don't think I'm ready for this." But she swivels her hips back into his, feeling her folds spreading out to encompass him, hindered only by her panties.

"How can I help you get ready," he whispers, letting her down so her feet can touch the floor.

"By talking to me first. I'm not going to just give it up like that." She naps her fingers and slides back to her locker to finish packing her bag.

_Of course not. _

After walking deep into the forested park, Christian pulls Amber down under a fir tree and into his lap, letting her giggle about his straying touches to her bare skin. She leans her head back so their cheeks touch, her back arching and her bosom rising high. Christian glides his hand up under her shirt and yanks her right breast free from her bra, massaging her nipple until its rigid and wanting.

"You're doing it to me again," she gasps in pleasure.

"I know. I can't help it. You're so fucking beautiful, Amber." She unravels at his deep voice complimenting her. She's so open to him. With care, his fingers sweep low over her skirt then up in small incraments along her inner thigh. She convulses at the thought of him reaching her panties, wondering just how far she's going to let him go before she stops him, but she can't. Not yet. He nips at her neck just as his fingers press deep into the fabric, causing her bum to rub deep against his lap and making him groan. He can't wait any longer. He slips past the satin fabric and plunges two fingers into her without permission.

"Ahhh..." She yells out in utter pleasure and fright at what just happened.

Easing in and then out, he takes his time with the slick movements that show her exactly how he'd like to fuck her. He picks up the pace with a quicker plunge into her warmth then out...in smoothly with a fast pull out. Quicker this time he goes into her with a circular motion...then out. She cries at the surprise. Back into her with another circle inside of her that makes her muscles begin to grasp at his fingers, her breathing short and fast...she moans...her hips are pulsing with every grip of his fingers, her muscles spasm out of control, her hips flexing but controlled. So terrorized by the onset of this intense pleasure she holds it back. There's a tinge of guilt for the naughtiness, but it doesn't hold. "Christian!" She can't believe the immensity of the tension being released within her. She climaxes so swiftly that it ends just as quickly. She falls against him and sighs.

Without a word he unzips his jeans and begins to pull down her panties so he can enter her before he comes at the thought of being in her. She pushes his hands away from her panties. "Christian! I'm not having sex with you under a tree. What the hell?" Christian's temper flares, his eyes burning with anger and desire. She stands up with a jolt and adjusts her clothes as he zips his pants, his hands rigid with unfilled want.

After a bit of silence they look at each other uncomfortably and Christian stands, his temper cooled by her nervous glance.

"Sorry, Amber. I shouldn't have pushed you."

"No, Christian. It's fine. I'm being a total bitch tease, I know. This just went so fast. I feel like I just got off a race track with you. I need to figure out if I'm ready, that's all." Not one guy in school showed interest in her, her beauty quietly hidden away behind her normal shyness, so she hadn't even contemplated losing her virginity, especially with Christian-fucking-Grey, bad-boy extraordinaire.

"Sorry," is all he could muster. She grabbed her bag and started to walk back from where they came from, Christian following, a solid ache in his belly and his balls.

"I'm starving," he announces totally wanting to move on from the weird intimacy they shared.

"Oh, you know...I think I'll get back home. Another time?"

"Fine." They split apart and Christian grudgingly walks the two miles to Elena's, knowing Mr. Lincoln will be home fucking Elena into a frenzy by the time he gets there.

# # #

Being careful to be quiet as he walks through the door, Christian peers around and listens. At the top of the stairs he looks down the East wing and waits. Finally he hears exactly what he wanted to hear, Elena gasping in extraordinary pleasure, the sound of the riding crop cracking against skin. After being left unfulfilled and uncomfortable with Amber in the park, Christian strides quietly down the hall and next to the playroom door.

It doesn't take but another sexy moan from Elena for Christian to burst into complete fullness, shoving it into his eager hand. _This fucking sucks! I hate this. I hate her! Fucking Elena in my head. _

He strokes himself harder, so his tip is tall enough to reach his own belly. The pulls up and down are painful, but it brings a sense of clarity and peace with each stab.

"Lewis, hold the fuck still." The sound of a loud slap echoes into the hall. "You never follow the fucking rules." Another slap that's even louder. "You are so weak." Lewis yells out in pain with another slap. "God, dammit, Lewis!" And finally a last slap as Lewis screams, "Red! Red! Red!"

"Get the hell off me, Elena. I'm done with this. I love you. You know I love you, but I can't do this crap anymore. You're fucked up. You're just too fucked up for me sometimes. You were a piece of shit bitch when I saved you from disgracing yourself and I don't think you've changed one bit. You just put makeup on, an expensive dress and added a fucked up lifestyle. You're an insane bitch! I don't need to be abused by my own wife!"

"Lewis, come on. You know this helps me," she cries out.

"I'm staying at a hotel tonight. We'll talk tomorrow night." Christian creeps quickly down the hall and into a door frame to hide. Mr. Lincoln opens the door and slams it shut. The sound of Mr. Lincoln picking up his travel bags and heading back out the front doors is heard loudly throughout the house as he grumbles through the process.

Christian opens the door to the playroom slowly, hating Mr. Lincoln for his words. Telling her she's too fucked up for him and that she's a piece of shit. He's the piece of shit for treating her so badly. So she's a little fucked up. Aren't we all. He didn't have to be so cruel.

Sobbing in dramatic but clearly effective gasps, Christian draws near Elena quietly, fearful of her unpredictable response to him being there, in such a private moment. She's bare, only lacy black panties to cover her unmarked skin, freshly tan from a tanning bed.

"Ms. Elena? She's ready for him in so many ways. Peering up warily, she wipes the tears.

"I can't talk right now, Christian," she says with a trembling voice that challenges Christians natural inclination to care for her. "I can't comprehend the loss, not with you here."

There isn't anything more important to Christian in the moment than helping Elena, a fellow victim of abuse. With tenderness he traces her brow and places her bright blonde hair behind her ear, but it flops back out, too thick and curled to be obedient. Elena grasps Christians hand and he trembles in fear. Then she kisses it in gratitude, pressing her cheek into his slightly trembling hand. Her soft demeanor is unsettling Christian, never having seen her this way, when normally she's so terse and angry. He loves seeing her so weak and needy of him. And she's counting on just such a response.

Melting, her brown eyes found his, pleading for his help. Christian knelt down before her, his hands up on both her knees, repentant for arguing with her so much in the past several days.

"I'm sorry...I apologize for being suck a prick to you lately. You don't deserve me or Mr. Lincoln. What he said to you was bullshit," he glared up at her protectively.

"Yes, it was. I don't deserve it." And she meant it, but she also created it. Though Elena's tears were true (her husband was away for weeks at a time fucking other women, she wasn't an idiot), they were a means to a most bitterly sweet end that would have Christian signing the new contract; leaving him entirely in her control. She was going to help him, get him through this horrible mess of a life he had and give him purpose; make him a man. Her man.

"Lewis never appreciated me. Leaving me here in this house to rot my youth away, waiting for him to come home from his affairs. He knows I need this to be sane. I know I'm fucked up, but this one little thing keeps me together."

Without hesitation Elena kisses the top of his copper hair, tossing his waves with her fingers. Then it becomes the slightest of tugging, the sensation opening this door into a quiet but exited energy between them. With every tug of his thick, soft hair his hands notch upward on her lean thighs, their breathing deepening together, causing their bodies to rock a little in want.

"Tell me what to do Ms. Elena. Show me," he whispers, her massaging fingers becoming so rough on his scalp that its echoing painfully beneath him, his unzipped jeans no longer able to contain him.

His willingness - the submission she's been waiting for - is a dribble of cool fresh water down her parched throat, and she lunges for him. Her mouth attacking his as she throws her tongue against his. He quickly responds, knowing she'll reward him soon with everything he couldn't have with Amber that afternoon, releasing all of his angry tension. He just wishes it were Amber shoving her tongue into his mouth, engulfing him with her clenched warmth and spanking his firm ass wildly as he came after waiting thirty minutes in torture, waiting for Elena's permission to be whispered in angst, "You can come, Christian! Now!"


End file.
